 | Poems and Plays |  |
203
CONTENT.
1781.
“How idle are mortals!” (said Wisdom to Youth)
“They slight the clear dictates of Reason and Truth;
“They worship Ambition, to Pleasure they bend,
“Yet blindly o'erlook a more excellent friend:
“And hence their vain hopes are eternally crost,
“Their life in a tempest of wishes is lost;
“Still destin'd to toil, and of toil to repent,
“For neglect of just vows to the Goddess Content;
“That Goddess from whom all felicity flows,
“Who unites every good in the gift she bestows;
“So free of her bounty to all who confess it,
“To solicit her smile is almost to possess it.”
When I heard this fine speech, my fond passion was rais'd,
And I set forth in quest of the Being so prais'd;
At the mansion of Grandeur my search I begin,
And ask if the Goddess Content is within:
But Pride, who as centinel guarded the door,
Said bluntly he ne'er heard her title before;
He told me I wanted a poor rustic slut,
And bade me go look in some little thatch'd hut.
I march'd to the Villager's lowly abode,
'Twas a snug pretty cottage, and stood near the road:
And here a good woman, possessing, tho' humble,
A face that could frown, and a tongue that would grumble,
Said—the person I ask'd for had lodg'd in her cot,
But, alas! such good luck was no longer her lot;
For she quitted her roof, where she oft had repos'd,
When yon great house was built, and the common inclos'd.
“They slight the clear dictates of Reason and Truth;
“They worship Ambition, to Pleasure they bend,
“Yet blindly o'erlook a more excellent friend:
“And hence their vain hopes are eternally crost,
“Their life in a tempest of wishes is lost;
“Still destin'd to toil, and of toil to repent,
“For neglect of just vows to the Goddess Content;
“That Goddess from whom all felicity flows,
“Who unites every good in the gift she bestows;
“So free of her bounty to all who confess it,
“To solicit her smile is almost to possess it.”
When I heard this fine speech, my fond passion was rais'd,
And I set forth in quest of the Being so prais'd;
204
And ask if the Goddess Content is within:
But Pride, who as centinel guarded the door,
Said bluntly he ne'er heard her title before;
He told me I wanted a poor rustic slut,
And bade me go look in some little thatch'd hut.
I march'd to the Villager's lowly abode,
'Twas a snug pretty cottage, and stood near the road:
And here a good woman, possessing, tho' humble,
A face that could frown, and a tongue that would grumble,
Said—the person I ask'd for had lodg'd in her cot,
But, alas! such good luck was no longer her lot;
For she quitted her roof, where she oft had repos'd,
When yon great house was built, and the common inclos'd.
I conceiv'd, as I now bade the village farewell,
With the mild sons of Science this Goddess must dwell;
But those, where I sought some obliging instructor,
Were squabbling about an electric conductor.
Some cry'd-up the point; some commended the ball;
The soft breath of Science was turn'd to a squall:
The Sages no mental conductor could find
To draw off the flame that now flash'd on their mind.
With the mild sons of Science this Goddess must dwell;
But those, where I sought some obliging instructor,
Were squabbling about an electric conductor.
Some cry'd-up the point; some commended the ball;
The soft breath of Science was turn'd to a squall:
205
To draw off the flame that now flash'd on their mind.
In haste I exclaim'd, to the Learned adieu!
For e'en Science offends, when she talks like a shrew.
For e'en Science offends, when she talks like a shrew.
Having wander'd so wide of the object I sought,
I was now led to think, and rejoic'd at the thought,
This Goddess (herself for her charms so renown'd)
With the daughters of Beauty must surely be found:
With this hope I approach'd (unperceiv'd by them all)
Three lovely young girls just array'd for the ball;
In each, whose bright eyes on a mirror were bent,
I thought I discover'd a spark of Content;
But watching them more, in their beautiful faces,
Of the Goddess I sought I no more saw the traces;
For as they survey'd, with a critical glance,
The elegant Montagu move in the dance,
In her exquisite figure such graces were shown,
That viewing her charms they distrusted their own.
Thou gentlest of nymphs! while thy triumphs increase,
Unconscious of beauty, so fatal to peace!
Tho' the sparks of Content in one sex thou may'st smother,
Bright Ecstasy's flame thou wilt raise in the other.
If in bosom parental Content could reside,
The heart of thy parent this treasure must hide;
But, alas! 'tis a truth which all parents lament,
Their tender anxiety stifles Content.
I was now led to think, and rejoic'd at the thought,
This Goddess (herself for her charms so renown'd)
With the daughters of Beauty must surely be found:
With this hope I approach'd (unperceiv'd by them all)
Three lovely young girls just array'd for the ball;
In each, whose bright eyes on a mirror were bent,
I thought I discover'd a spark of Content;
But watching them more, in their beautiful faces,
Of the Goddess I sought I no more saw the traces;
For as they survey'd, with a critical glance,
The elegant Montagu move in the dance,
In her exquisite figure such graces were shown,
That viewing her charms they distrusted their own.
Thou gentlest of nymphs! while thy triumphs increase,
Unconscious of beauty, so fatal to peace!
Tho' the sparks of Content in one sex thou may'st smother,
Bright Ecstasy's flame thou wilt raise in the other.
206
The heart of thy parent this treasure must hide;
But, alas! 'tis a truth which all parents lament,
Their tender anxiety stifles Content.
O tell me, while vainly to find thee I pant,
Dear latent Divinity! where is thy haunt?
“Away to Batheaston,” Good-nature replies,
“Behold she there weaves the poetical prize.”
With thy Myrtle, kind Miller! O let me be crown'd,
Then my search is repaid, and the Goddess is found:
Nay, if to another your wreath you assign,
And give it to verse far superior to mine,
My search's dear object I still must attain;
And the proof of this wonder 's exceedingly plain,
It rests on this maxim, by Horace invented,
The Bard who writes worst is the Bard most contented.
My claim to this blessing thus made very clear,
If I've nothing to hope, I have nothing to fear;
For Miller can please while the mind she amuses,
Both when she bestows, and e'en when she refuses;
In truth I suspect, from her singular aim,
The Goddess I seek is conceal'd by her name:
She herself is Content, and her house is the fane,
Where Spleen and Ill-nature no favours obtain:
Some mortals in vain for admission must pray,
But all who once enter go smiling away.
Dear latent Divinity! where is thy haunt?
“Away to Batheaston,” Good-nature replies,
“Behold she there weaves the poetical prize.”
With thy Myrtle, kind Miller! O let me be crown'd,
Then my search is repaid, and the Goddess is found:
Nay, if to another your wreath you assign,
And give it to verse far superior to mine,
My search's dear object I still must attain;
And the proof of this wonder 's exceedingly plain,
It rests on this maxim, by Horace invented,
The Bard who writes worst is the Bard most contented.
My claim to this blessing thus made very clear,
If I've nothing to hope, I have nothing to fear;
For Miller can please while the mind she amuses,
Both when she bestows, and e'en when she refuses;
In truth I suspect, from her singular aim,
The Goddess I seek is conceal'd by her name:
207
Where Spleen and Ill-nature no favours obtain:
Some mortals in vain for admission must pray,
But all who once enter go smiling away.
| Poems and Plays | |